


feel something

by tanyart



Series: Reaper76 Week 2017 [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 18:32:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9337709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tanyart/pseuds/tanyart
Summary: They get back together, but the pieces don’t fit as well as they used to.  (Even when they never did in the first place.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> **R76 Week Day 1:** “How We Were” - History/Decay
> 
> Fic mostly inspired by [Feel Something - Black Coast](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NCBXoJgs-EM).

It’s over and done within the span of years. Soldier 76 feels it coming like a gentle wave of warm water washing over his head. It’s relief, and it’s fear. He has always known he was _tired_ , but it had came with the knowledge of needing to do more, finish off the things he had left to rot. Now, when everything has been wrenched out of his grasp and into the newer, younger hands of the next leaders of the world, he is left exhausted beyond words. The weariness is reaches down to his bones, no matter how hard he tries to fight it. There isn’t anything else to throw his bitter anger at, nothing to call back on. He is bereft in every sense of the word.

Reaper sits next to him, a relic of that old anger. They watch as Talon and Overwatch take each other down, though it happens so quietly Soldier 76 doubts the rest of the world will ever realize it. Nothing burns in the fall of Talon. Nothing turns to ash when Overwatch dismantles itself from the inside out. They have removed themselves from the entire equation of the world, which is something that rings incomprehensible to Soldier 76. All that history is forcibly negated and wiped clean for a new set of problems. He doesn’t understand it. But maybe it’s better that way.

Reaper takes off his mask. He laughs in quiet shock, and Soldier 76 thinks he can hear Gabriel in there, somewhere.

“Let’s get out of here,” Reaper says.

Soldier 76 turns. He opens his mouth, feeling his own breath condense into heat inside his own tactical visor. After a moment, he unhooks it from his face. Silly now, to keep it on. The air hits his skin, still warm from Dorado’s setting sun.

“Where?” he asks, and he doesn’t mean to sound so incredulous— _where else is there?_ But he is also bewildered. _There isn’t anywhere else._

Reaper’s face twists into something thoughtful. “Not sure. But we’ll figure it out.”

This time, Jack laughs.

 

* * *

 

These are the lessons Jack has learned: you can always correct the angle on your gun, your footwork in combat, or the way you throw your fist in a fight. You can teach yourself every trick in the book and study every tactical strategy. You can do all these things, but you can’t so easily unlearn a sense of justice or the unwavering belief that whatever you were doing, you were doing it _right_.

You can’t undo years of pride or the righteous anger that has made itself your fuel to live. You can’t unfeel what love you had felt for someone. You can’t undo the hatred either.

They can’t go back to whatever they had. Jack tips his head forward into Gabriel’s roughened palms and shuts his eyes. He can’t even pretend. It’s ugly.

The things they have done over the years color every motion now. Gabriel’s fingers trailing along his jaw remind Jack of the time his talons had clawed deep across his face. Jack doesn’t flinch. It’s old history. Gabriel doesn’t trace the scar either. He had etched his fingers into Jack’s skin once, and he doesn’t seem interested in doing it again, no matter what the context.

With a disappointed sigh, Gabriel rests his forehead on Jack’s shoulder and that, too, reminds Jack of bleeding out in some long ago fight. He doesn’t remember if that had been before or after Gabriel had joined Talon. It’s a shame, because all Jack has now is his past. And he can’t even seem to recall any of it with any factual accuracy.

“We can’t start over,” Gabriel decides, as if reading his thoughts. Everything echoes Jack’s own sentiments. Their anger at each other is burnt out, but it’s still something to remember and not forget.

His hair brushes beneath Jack’s chin, smelling of smoke and blood. His mouth lingers at his neck. Jack can’t forget this either.

“Do you think we can change?” Jack wonders. It’s a small hope. They’ve lived too long. The lessons he has learned are engraved into his heart, deeper than any belief or any person.

Gabriel snorts. “Hah. Funny.”

Jack smiles, bitter, and Gabriel lifts his head. They stare at each other. Even though the rejection isn’t so daunting, the realization remains crushingly bleak.

But Gabriel leans forward, daring, and Jack doesn’t hesitate to kiss him back.

With them, history is bound to repeat itself, starting with the little things.


End file.
